


Slightly Delayed Spring Song

by musicforswimming



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Community: femslash100, Double Drabble, F/F, Master/Servant, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-22
Updated: 2012-03-22
Packaged: 2017-11-02 09:25:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/367478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicforswimming/pseuds/musicforswimming
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even in her underworld of exile, Mary must allow that New York, blooming with spring, is splendid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slightly Delayed Spring Song

**Author's Note:**

> For [](http://femslash100.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**femslash100**](http://femslash100.dreamwidth.org/) 's Lesbian Pulp Title Challenge, specifically "The Delicate Vice". Title courtesy of Dorothy Parker. AU as of the Christmas special.

Even in her underworld of exile, Mary must allow that New York, blooming with spring, is splendid. Sunshine and balmy breeze balance better than any cocktail she's had yet.

It's Anna's day off. There are parks aplenty, bursting with fresh (or newly freshened) dresses. But one park, one dress, one _woman_ , book in her lap on a bench, face to the sun—Mary knows her, goes to her, as birds do summer.

When Anna first arrived at Downton, Mary snuck after her on her days off, tugged by stray wisps of hair, skip-quick smiles, looser limbs. She named her fascination "envy" and left it there.

"We had the same idea,” she says today, reaching her.

Anna smiles, makes room. "Hard not to, Miss, a day like today."

Petals, released from trees, catch everything. One's nestled next to Anna's eye. Reaching for it, Mary lets her thumb linger, helplessly notes the zephyr set whirling by Anna's low giggle.

"I've forgotten gloves." Her thoughts are messy as eating pomegranates, as petals on the wind, but she must say something; Anna will think she's drunk, mad...but Anna, of all people, knows Mary's winters.

Here she is, though—and spring with her.


End file.
